Chapter 40 #2
I pulled him down for another kiss, slower this time. Deeper. Pouring everything I felt into it.
When we broke apart, Nikolai dropped to his knees.
“What are you doing?” I asked, startled, trying to pull him back up.
“Worshiping the ground you walk on.” His hands went to the waistband of my leggings. “Starting here.”
He pulled the fabric down slowly, revealing the scar that ran from mid-thigh to my hip. The horrible reminder of that night.
“It’s ugly.” I tried pulling him away, too ashamed of how it looked, of him not liking what he saw.
“No. It’s beautiful,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the raised skin. “Every scar on you is beautiful, because it means you fought. You survived, and I am so fucking proud of you.”
Another kiss, higher up, his tongue leaving a wet trail anywhere his lips touched.
His lips traced the length of the scar, worshiping every inch. By the time he reached the top, I was trembling.
“Nikolai…”
“I’m going to spend the rest of my life making up for sending you away.” His hands gripped my hips. “You want me begging on my knees? You’ve got it.”
His mouth moved higher, and my knees went weak.
“Be mine, Addy. Please. There’s no life without you in it. No light in my fucking darkness. No meaning to everything we went through. Be my wife, Babochka. Please.” I grabbed his shoulders for support as he continued his worship, his hands sliding my leggings down further.
“Bed,” I managed to gasp.
“Here.” He gently pulled me down to the floor with him. “Right here. Right now. I’ve waited three weeks to have you again. I’m not waiting another second.”
He laid me back on the soft rug, his body covering mine, and I stopped caring where we were.
Stopped caring about anything except the feel of him, the taste of him, the way his hands moved over my body like he was memorizing every curve, with a reverence that contradicted everything brutal about him.
“Say it,” he demanded, his lips against my throat, kissing and claiming every inch of my skin. “Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours.”
“Say you forgive me.”
“I–” The words were caught in my throat. Because I was still angry. Still hurt.
“Then let me earn it.” His hand slid between my thighs. “Let me show you how sorry I am. Let me worship you the way you deserve.”
His mouth found mine again, swallowing my protests before they could form. When he pulled back, those pale blue eyes held mine with an intensity that made my chest ache.
He shifted carefully, mindful of my injured leg as he positioned himself between my thighs. His hands were gentle as he pulled my other leg over his shoulder, keeping my wounded one supported.
“Tell me if it hurts,” he murmured, his eyes searching mine for any sign of pain.
I should have resisted. Should have held onto my anger like armor. Instead, I nodded, my body already trembling with anticipation.
His hands gripped my hips, holding me steady as he kissed his way down my body. I felt him, hard and ready, but he ignored his own need as his mouth found where I ached for him most.
“You drive me fucking insane, Babochka,” he growled against my sensitive flesh. “Do you know that? Do you know what you do to me?”
His tongue found my clit, circling with practiced precision while his hands kept my hips anchored to the rug. I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood, trying to hold back the sounds threatening to escape.
“Let me hear you,” he demanded, his fingers joining his tongue. “I want to hear every sound you make when you come for me.”
My back arched when he thrust two fingers inside me, my hands fisting in the soft rug as he worked me with a skill that should have been illegal. The angle was perfect, hitting that spot that made stars explode behind my eyelids.
“Nikolai,” I gasped, my leg trembling over his shoulder.
“That’s it, Moya Koroleva. Take what you need.” My Queen.
The combination of his fingers inside me and his tongue on my clit had me climbing fast toward that edge. My whole body shook with the intensity of the pleasure he was pulling out of me. My breathing intense and ragged as he thrust into me.
“You’re soaking my hand,” he murmured, adding a third finger that stretched me deliciously. “Is this all for me?”
“Yes,” I whimpered, past the point of pride or resistance.
He withdrew his fingers suddenly, and I actually whined at the loss. But then I heard the sound of his zipper, watched as he positioned himself above me, careful to keep his weight off my injured leg.
“Tell me you want this,” he said, the head of his cock teasing my entrance. “Tell me you want me inside you.”
“Please, Nik. I need you inside me,” Was all I managed before he thrust into me in one smooth motion, filling me completely.
The sound that tore from my throat was primal and raw. He stilled for a moment, letting me adjust to the size of him, his hands gripping my hips.
“Fuck, Adrianne,” he groaned, pulling out slowly before sliding back in. “You feel like heaven wrapped around my cock.”
He set a deep, controlled pace, each thrust measured to avoid jarring my injury. The care he took, even in his passion, made something crack open in my chest. His eyes never left mine, watching for any sign of discomfort, even as pleasure built between us.
One hand left my hip to wrap gently around my throat, just holding. The gesture was possessive, making me clench around him.
“Mine,” he growled, his pace becoming more urgent. “Say it.”
“Yours,” I gasped, feeling my orgasm building like a storm in my core.
“That’s it, Mrs. Volkov, you’re mine. Now moan my name and come for me.”
His hand moved from my throat to my clit, and that was all it took. I shattered around him, my vision going white as pleasure crashed through me in waves. I felt him follow me over, his grip tightening as he buried himself deep and came with a growl of my name.
He carefully lowered himself beside me on the rug, pulling me against his chest. His arms wrapped around me, holding me like I might disappear if he let go. His lips found the crown of my head, pressing soft kisses and whispers that sounded like forever.
“I’m never letting you go,” he murmured against my head. “Never again.”
I didn’t belong to a city. I didn’t belong to any place.
I belonged to him, wherever that was.